Remnants
by undeadstoryteller
Summary: Tom and Hal help as Annie struggles with her grief. Set early in Series 4.


The daily newspaper was one of those remnants of Mitchell that Annie couldn't bring herself to get rid of. Mitchell didn't do Google News, or whatever normal 21st-Century people did for news anymore. As it happened, neither did Tom or Hal, though neither kept up with current events particularly. Still, Tom fetched the paper from the front step every morning, at first to prevent the papers from piling up outside, but eventually because he'd come to enjoy the ritual of looking through the paper in the morning over breakfast. It made him feel grown up and almost normal. He didn't actually read it a lot of the time, as reading wasn't his strong suit and it would take him an hour to get through one article, but he read the headlines and looked at the pictures. If a picture - usually an advertisement - made him smile, he clipped it out for his wall. Then he folded the paper neatly and put it in a box for Annie. Annie rarely read them, but she liked having them around.

"Tell me," Hal said, coming in from the garden, dustpan in hand, "What kind of people just throw cigarettes on the ground like animals?"

Tom stared at an ad for a florist. "Animals don't smoke, Hal."

Hal sighed. "You know perfectly well what I mean."

Tom blinked and looked at Hal as he dumped the dustpan into the bin. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm cleaning up outside."

Tom stood up. "But you can't just throw those away," he said. "Them ones with the filters were Nina's, and the ones without were Mitchell's"

Hall looked at him blankly. "Point being?"

"If you find an old butt, you gotta save it, Hal," Tom said. "For Annie."

Hal paused. "That's the most asinine thing I've ever heard."

Tom walked over and reached into the bin, retrieving two butts, neither of which had filters. Typically, Hal had exaggerated the scope of the mess.

"You save them," Tom said, "and when she gets sad, you give her one. It's... it's like a part of 'em she didn't have before."

"It's rubbish," Hal said, watching Tom pull out a plastic bag and slip them inside. "Annie couldn't possibly want that filth."

"I thought we'd found 'em all," Tom said. "I was running out."

"You seriously give those to Annie?"

"Yeah," Tom said. "It helps. You know, when she has an episode."

Hal swallowed. In the weeks he'd been living there, he'd never noticed Annie having an 'episode.' "How do you know when she's having an episode?" he asked.

"Oh, you know," Tom said, sitting down at the table again. "It gets cold. Colder than usual. I don't know, it's just a sad feeling. And when you find her, she's crying. You know, an episode."

Hal nodded slowly. Tom may not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but his sense of empathy was incredible. Jarring, even.

"Well," Hal said, "I suppose that's thoughtful of you."

Tom nodded. "If you find any more, just given 'em to me, OK?"

"Of course." Hal stood, suddenly feeling detached from the house he'd already come to think of as his home. There was a void he couldn't really feel, but in moments like this, he was acutely aware existed. "It's hard for me to imagine," he said, aloud, without meaning to.

"What?" Tom asked, returning to his paper.

"Just... John Mitchell was notorious. A brutal killer, even before Box Tunnel 20. What made him special to her?"

Tom shrugged. "He was her boyfriend."

"Yes, I know that, but why? How?"

Tom considered. "He must have had some good in him. He must have done."

"Enough to deserve a woman like Annie?"

Tom looked at him. "What, are you sweet on her?"

Hal chuckled. "I wouldn't have the audacity."

"Well," Tom said, not in the mood to decipher Hal's vocabulary, "Mitchell did, I guess."

"He got greedy," Hal said, wiping the counter he'd cleaned just a few minutes before.

"We're all looking for the same thing, Hal. A little bit of happiness in this world."

Hal nodded. "Happiness leads to pain," he said. "For us, it always leads to pain."

"So you're just gonna spend hundreds of years in misery, then?"

Hal folded his cleaning rag neatly. "That's how it generally works, yes." At the sight of Tom's expression of pity, he added, "Look. I was content for 55 years. I had friends. I watched my best friend grow old and wither away. That's what we get for trying to be normal and 'happy.' Mitchell thought he'd found a way to beat it -"

"You didn't even know Mitchell," Tom said, standing up.

"Trust me, Tom, you don't get to be my age without knowing more than a little about John Mitchell."

"I'm just saying, have some respect for the dead."

"Since when do you respect dead vampires?"

"Since he was Annie's friend." Tom paused. "He was never nice to me. Not once. But any friend of Annie's is a friend of mine."

Hal blinked. Tom had a way of humbling him, and he hated it. "Very well," he said.

Tom picked up the plastic bag holding the cigarette butts and rolled it up tightly before slipping it gingerly into his side pocket.

"It's only polite."

* * *

The walk home from the cafe was cold, at least for Tom. He looked forward to coming home to a warm house, a special luxury for someone who had spent most of his life living in a cold camper in the woods. Hal muttered to himself about the indignity of flipping cheeseburgers for a living all the way, the same as every night. The job at the cafe was the best job Tom had ever had. It was the only real job he'd had, yes, but he liked it, and he didn't appreciate Hal putting it down.

Hall stopped muttering long enough to unlock the front door. Once inside, Tom took off his jacket, but it was hardly warmer than outside.

"Not again," Tom said, alarmed. He bounded up the stairs.

"What?" Hal asked. After a moment, he followed Tom, unsure what was happening. He found Tom in Annie's room. Annie was on the bed, asleep.

Tom looked at him desperately. "This is bad."

"She's just sleeping," Hal said. He thought for a moment. "Wait... sleeping?"

Tom shook her gently. "Annie, please wake up," he said. She didn't stir. "Annie - please..."

Hal felt a wave of relief as her eyes fluttered open, looking at Tom sleepily.

Tom pulled her up. "Sit up now, OK? We can't have you fading away on us..."

Annie sat up and nodded.

"Ghosts don't sleep," Hal said, a note of confusion in his voice.

"She's weak, Hal," Tom said. He looked at Annie. "No more sleeping now, OK? Remember, you promised? What would baby Eve do without you?"

Annie blinked. "Eve?"

"Go get Eve, Hal," Tom said.

Hal looked over his shoulder. "You want me to wake her up?"

"I don't care what you do, just bring Annie the baby!"

Hal hesitated, then turned and went.

Tom turned to Annie. "Everything is OK, Annie," he said. "You've got me, and Hal, and Eve." He reached into his pocket. "And look what Hal found." He pulled out the plastic bag and unrolled it. "Look," he said, showing her one of the tattered cigarette butts and placing it in her hand.

She looked down at it. "Oh," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "Mitchell..."

Tom hated to see her cry, but at least she was alert now. From upstairs, he could hear Eve start to cry too. It was only a few moments before he heard Hal's footsteps coming quickly down the stairs and up the hall, Eve's cries getting louder with every step.

Hal appeared in the doorway with Eve, looking distressed. "She's crying," he said, over her wails.

"Give her to me," Tom said.

Annie wiped her tears and placed the cigarette on the bedside table. She reached out and took Eve into her arms. She rocked her gently until, after just a few seconds, she calmed.

"See?" Tom said. "She needs you." He watched as Annie stroked Eve's head. "Go fix her bottle, Hal."

"It's not her feeding time," Hal said.

"Just go fix one."

Hal stood, unmoved. "It's not my turn to fix her bottle."

"_Hal_." Tom glared at him, but knew he was getting nowhere. He stood up. "Alright, then," he said. "I'll fix her bottle."

Hal nodded at his little triumph as Tom walked out. He looked at Annie. She was looking more like herself now that she had Eve, but the earlier episode had been disturbing. He shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to say, but knowing he should stay and try to comfort her.

"Tom's right," he said. "You shouldn't go to sleep."

She nodded. "I know. I just get so tired. I never used to feel so tired."

Hal walked over to the bedside table and picked up the butt. "What do you do with these?"

She looked up at him. "I keep them in a box. With his... stuff." She didn't want to tell him she kept his ashes in a shoe box.

He set it back down and sat next to her on the bed. "And it makes you feel better?"

She shrugged. "I can't bear the thought of throwing them away, I guess."

He nodded.

"They were all I had, Mitchell and George and Nina. And now they're gone."

"Be happy you found them," Hal said. "Be happy you had the time you had."

"It wasn't enough time."

"No," Hal agreed. "It wasn't. I'm sorry."

"Without them, I could have become on of those... poltergeists. Forgetting who I was. Rattling round in the attic."

"We won't let that become of you." He paused. "You won't let that become of you. You're the strongest being I know. I saw it in the way you were with Pearl and Leo."

"Pearl was lucky." She paused. "Or maybe she was just better than me. Maybe I deserve this."

"No," Hal said. "I won't compare you to Pearl, but since I've known you I've seen nothing but a being who cares about others. Even in your grief, there's a light about you. Since I've known you, I've become a... somewhat... productive member of society."

"I think Tom deserves the credit for that."

"You both do." Hal paused. "I lost the people who meant everything to me, too. Leo and Pearl were my entire life..."

"Oh, god," Annie said, looking at him. "Here I am feeling sorry for myself, and -"

"No," Hal said. "It's OK for you to think of yourself." He hesitated. "You'll see him again someday. You'll see all of them"

Annie shook her head. "You don't know that."

"I know that what Mitchell did was brave. He made a choice in his darkest hour that few of us could make. Young ones, yes, they often choose to die because they're still so close to human. Mitchell had enough humanity left after all those years to make that choice. You should be proud. I can't imagine you had nothing to do with it."

"You really think he still exists somewhere and I'll see him again?"

Hal paused. "I absolutely do."

Tom appeared in the doorway, bottle in hand. "All right, then," he said.

Annie and Hal looked down at Eve. She was sleeping soundly.

"Thank you, Tom," Annie said, smiling. "I'll give it to her when she wakes."

Tom nodded, and handed her the bottle. "You look better," he said.

"I feel better," she said.

Hal smiled. "Well," he said. "We'll leave you to it." He got up and motioned for Tom to exit.

Tom looked at Hal in confusion as they left the room. "What did you say to her?"

Hal shrugged, and shut the door behind them. "I told her what she needed to hear."

"And what was that?"

Hal lowered his voice. "I just told her that she would see her friends again. Mitchell included."

"But you don't know that's true, Hal, do you?"

"No, obviously not," Hal said. "But some hope is better than no hope."

Tom thought for a moment. "I guess. Hey, do you think I'll see my dad again when I die?"

Hal paused. "I absolutely do."

* * *

A/N: A couple of the details in this story were inspired by the being human BBC tie-in novel "The Road" by Simon Guerrier: the idea that sleep is an indication that a ghost is weak and fading, and that some ghosts remain in the human world but no longer function like humans. So those things are "expanded canon," I guess.


End file.
